hunter to hunted
by ch3sh1r3katt
Summary: Across middle earth in the foothills of the Misty Mountains an elf searches for his friend. Little does he know that his life will never be the same again. An attempt to change the outcome of the battle of the five armies. Apologies for the bad summary


While dwarves were joyfully invading a warm hole in the ground for supper, half way across middle earth in the pines of the misty mountains an elf sat crouched over a broken twig as fat droplets of rain soaked through the green hood pulled low over his face.

He delicately pulled the sprig away from the earth and pressed thin fingers into the muddy bootprint beneath, rubbing his thumb over the soil that coated them before sniffing at it and wiping his hands off on the edge of his sopping wet cloak. The elf stood and glided further along the tracks until he reached a clearing and froze.

The ground was black. Broken bodies and limbs lie scattered among the charred and smoking remains of tents. The thick stench of blood and burning flesh assaulted his senses and he gagged, partly in horror at the thought of one of the many corpses being that of his friend. His boots barely made a sound as he darted forward, scanning the bodies for any signs of life and finding none. He paused by the corpse of a young man in his late twenties with dark wiry hair but moved on when he realized the man was Neither breathing nor the one he sought.

The elf warily marched around the perimeter of the desolate camp until he found a light set of tracks leading away from the destruction. He followed, leaving bloody footprints of his own for several yards until the muddy ground absorbed the last of it. His concern grew as the blood mixed with the trail he followed did not wane but continued in a thin ribbon of crimson. He picked up his pace, heart pounding against his chest making it difficult to breath.

Finally he burst into a clearing where the tracks stopped and slid to a halt with his cloak billowing around him as the rain started to come down in earnest. He crouched besides the last set of prints with a barely perceptible frown.

They were deeper in both the toe and heel regions which would not happen unless...

He stood and retraced the tracks which were quickly starting to disappear to a tree near the edge of the clearing.

A dark figure perched among its branches, his face hidden in the shadows, as he drew back on the dripping bow aimed at the elf's heart and growled, "stay back."

The elf took a step closer, peering up at the man throughout the rain, and noticed the way he shifted protectively in front of an additional bundle balanced between two branches, "Mae 'lovannen, mellon." _Well met, friend_.

The man lowered his bow slightly in surprise, "mellon- nîn?"

The elf nodded regally before sliding his wet hood away from his pale golden hair and blue eyes, "ci maer?" _You are well?_

The man relaxed his bow and leaned back in the tree with a wary nod, "ni maer, Legolas." _I am well, Legolas_.

The elf prince grinned and jumped up into the lower branches, carefully swinging up until he was sitting beside his friend, "Aragorn. I've been searching for you."

"There was an orc raid," the man replied as he put away his bow and arrow with a wince.

Legolas frowned, "I saw. You trailed blood from the battle field."

"I did?" The man asked with slight concern.

"Yes," he leaned forward to better see his friend and his eyes widened in alarm, "ci harn." _You are wounded._

"I am _fine_, Legolas. It is but a scratch," Aragorn waved him off and hissed in pain as the action aggravated his shoulder.

"No, you are not," Legolas retorted firmly, "do not lie to me, mellon. Let me see."

The man reluctantly allowed him to remove his cloak, "it was a dagger. I have already checked it for poison."

"And is it?" The elf asked, prodding at the deep cut in his friend's shoulder, "you have nothing to treat it with."

"There are herbs in a pouch on my belt- ow!" The young man flinched away from the elf's fingers at a particularly hard poke.

"Goheno nîn," he muttered apologetically, "I did not mean to hurt you."

"It's alright," Aragorn replied with another wince.

Legolas sighed, "I fear it is more than a scratch. The cut runs deep," he pressed the backs of his fingers to his friend's forehead, "and you're coming down with a fever. Why have you not treated this?"

"I was about to when you showed up," the ranger snapped back, "I know how to handle poison."

"Clearly," he grumbled and pulled his pack down in front of himself to bring out a roll of clean white cloth and his water skin, "so poison coursing through your veins counts as being healthy to you. That is good to know."

"Legolas," Aragorn mumbled in what was supposed to be a chastising tone.

The prince simply yanked the pouch of herbs from the ranger's belt and began applying athelas to the cut, pouring some water over it while he balanced the rest of his supplies on the branch between them, muttering in elvish.

"Legolas," the man said more firmly and received only a stern glare in return, "don't be childish. What is it?"

Legolas sighed as he finished off the last of the incantation and began wrapping the wound, "we need to take you to the healers. I have not the knowledge to counter this."

"Not now," the ranger shook his head slowly. The action seemed to make him more tired.

"You need medical attention, Aragorn," the elf pleaded.

"I will not be able to walk the whole distance to Mirkwood and you cannot carry me and a child there on your own," the other replied calmly.

Legolas frowned, "child?" He looked at the small shape he had noticed earlier and suddenly his friend's protectiveness made sense.

Nestled between the branches was a small child with dark curls covering her pale face. She was unusually small for a human child and the ears that poked from beneath her unruly locks were rounded so she was not an elf or halfling. That left one thing.

The elf Prince scowled, "what is a dwarf doing so near our borders? And in a camp of men, I might add."

Aragorn sighed, "Legolas, stop it. She's a child. That camp was made by slavers."

"I see," he looked at the girl curiously, "is she seriously injured?"

"She hit her head while trying to get away from one of the men and the abrasions on her wrists may have become infected. That was only what I could see at a glance," the ranger said gravely.

Legolas peered around his friend at the girl, "I will see to her as best as I can. Rest."

"Someone needs to keep watch," Aragorn protested weakly and straightened.

"Tiriathon. Losto," _I will watch. Rest_. the elf said quietly, pushing the ranger back against the trunk gently.

Aragorn grumbled slightly in protest but soon sank into a restless slumber.

Legolas sighed and shifted carefully onto a branch closer to the girl. He moved a dark strand of hair away from her face and gently prodded at the crusted blood on her temple, stopping immediately when she winced in her sleep. He took a cloth from his pack and wet it before gently washing away the blood.

A branch snapped a ways off the path below, drawing his attention, and he paused in his task but he soon turned back to check her temperature and look for any obvious wounds that he could reach without moving her. The fever Aragorn had spoken of turned out to be a result of his own and there were additional cuts on her back most likely caused by repeated strikes from a whip. Legolas felt anger boil in his veins at the thought of men picking on an innocent child and laying her so low. _What is wrong with me_? He splashed water over his hands from the deluge outside of their shelter and rubbed the blood away before placing his supplies back where it belonged and turning his full attention to their surroundings.

THe rain had stopped and the forest was silent when twigs snapped some distance away and the elf came to attention, perched on his branch with his bow at the ready. The rhythmic snapping drew closer until he was certain it was almost right below them when a large buck passed directly under the branch. Legolas relaxed with a sigh. _I'm jumping at shadows and deer have become orcs. Something is definitely wrong._

He slowly released the tension on his bow string and flexed the fingers that had been holding it.

The dwarf girl shifted in her sleep and Legolas stowed his bow, moving over on the branch to make sure she would not fall.

She blinked and his chest tightened in panic as she scrambled backward and lost her footing on the branch. The elf lunged for her just as she slipped from the rough bow and caught hold of the front of her tunic. The sudden weight of the dwarf child threw him off balance and his torso hit the branch with enough force to knock the breath from him.

He wheezed and tried to get a better grip on the struggling dwarfling as his perch dug painfully into his stomach and the girl swore violently.

"It is not wise to use such language, miss," Legolas wheezed.

The dwarfling sent him a glare that would have killed lesser men, "unhand me, _elf."_

The prince grinned, "but if I do that, you will fall."

She looked at the ground, "it's not that far. I can manage it. Let go."

"It is nice to know that your pride was not damaged by captivity," the elf said flatly before glancing over his shoulder at the still sleeping human, "Aragorn, wake up."

The ranger muttered and shifted in his sleep.

The dwarfling stilled in her thrashing to look up at him worriedly, "is he alright?"

"I'm _fine,_" the young man grumbled, sitting up and glaring at the pair, "what are you doing?"

"She fell," Legolas huffed.

Aragorn moved carefully onto their branch with a nod and helped lower the girl to the ground, climbing down himself a moment later.

Legolas sighed and rubbed his sore middle while he leaned against the base of the tree, "te múr." _She is a cat_.

The girl frowned at him but quickly turned her attention to her feet, shuffling awkwardly as if she had something to say but no way to say it.

"What troubles you?" Aragorn asked, smile disappearing from his face instantly.

Her head snapped up, "I- nothing. It's just-" the girl stood worrying her lip, "thank you- for saving me- I mean. Most people would have left me to the orcs."

"I think you'll find that the human race is more noble than that, miss," Legolas replied and noted the way Aragorn smiled abashedly at his words.

The dwarfling glared at the elf and Legolas returned her gaze with a cold stare before Aragorn stepped between them, "we should be moving on. Legolas?"

He blinked and looked at his friend, "I haven't treated the markings on her back. The tree was too difficult to maneuver in the dark for it."

The young man nodded, "very well. Be quick."

The prince stepped toward the girl who immediately started backing away, "no, they're fine. We must move on."

"I've already let them sit for too long," Legolas replied calmly, "they will become infected if they go without treatment. I promise I will try not to harm you further."

She eyed him skeptically but finally allowed him to kneel beside her with his pack.

Legolas set his supplies down at her feet and bade her sit while he pulled fresh cloth and healing herbs from his bag and doused the leaves in water before gently applying them to the raw skin of her back.

The girl let out a soft hiss and he murmured an apology, putting less pressure on the cuts and working more slowly.

"I thought you elves were supposed to be fair with no spine for this sort of thing," she growled roughly.

The prince shook the remaining leaves from his hand and dampened one of the cloths to begin wiping away the grime and sap that made the shreds of shirt left on her back stick in places, "at least _one _of us is true to rumor," he replied flatly.

The girl let out a disgruntled huff and Aragorn snorted in a failed attempt to contain his laughter.

"It is best to come to your own conclusions where people are concerned," the elf continued, "it is not fair to judge many on the actions of one."

Aragorn coughed pointedly and both looked at him.

"That doesn't count," Legolas said calmly and set aside the now dirty cloth he had been using, "would you lift your tunic, please?"

The girl eyed him warily but eventually did as he asked anyway and he wrapped fresh linen around her torso so that it coated the lash marks in a protective layer.

When he was finished, he set his unused supplies back in his pack and pulled out a long light green shirt, "here. It will provide you more protection from the elements than that."

She looked down at her ruined tunic and hesitantly accepted his shirt, "why do you help me?"

"You need it," he replied simply as she slipped the garment over her head then pulled the old shirt out through the neck.

"I do not need your charity," she dropped the soiled tunic on the ground beside the elf's pack with a growl.

"And I do not give it," Legolas stated bluntly before stuffing the dirty shirt in his bag and slinging it over his shoulder with his quiver. He stood smoothly, "we had best be off."

"Have you a name?" Aragorn asked, walking by her side behind Legolas.

The girl frowned in concentration, "I do not know."

The young ranger put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "if you'd like, we could create one for you until you remember."

She nodded.

"Alright," the man said enthusiastically, trying to strike up a contemplative pose while still walking. The result made the girl laugh and had Legolas turning around to see what the commotion was about only to join her.

"How about Tuilin?" Aragorn asked as they calmed and Legolas returned his attention to the path.

The girl tilted her head to this side in thought, "I like it. Does it mean anything?"

"It means swallow," Legolas called over his shoulder, "like the bird."

She smiled, "Tuilin."

Aragorn grinned and patted her shoulder lightly, "welcome to the group."

Legolas snorted, "group? There were _two_ of us. Her presence here makes us a trio, not a group."

"You are just being argumentative," Aragorn replied and the two fell into a friendly banter that Tuilin would occasionally join in, usually to back Aragorn up when it appeared the elf was besting him.

She quickly learned that the elf's name was Legolas and that he was a prince of Mirkwood (the dark haired man was making fun of him) and she learned that the man's name was Aragorn.


End file.
